Just learned today (I forget where, so sue me) that J.K. Rowling's favorite band is The Smiths.
Why do I suspect this means Very Depressing Things in Harry Potter's future?
It has been one of those days. Simon seems to be finally getting his top front tooth, because all day he was drooly and chewy and snuffly and generally very cantankerous and demanding. He also cut his morning and afternoon naps in half and woke up crabby both times. Nicholas was fairly cheerful, but spent most of the day spreading messes throughout the house, including a set of wooden blocks which I must have picked up and put back in the bucket at least five times, and numerous handfuls of Corn Flakes he stole out of the container when I had my hands full of raw chicken and couldn't stop him. He didn't nap, but then he usually doesn't. I got half an hour of "quiet time" out of him while I put my feet up and read the new Reader's Digest, and that was the only break I managed to grab all day.
While I was trying to make dinner, Simon was underfoot and shrieking at the top of his lungs about being ignored. I became flustered and made a mess while trying to mash the butter and cream cheese into the potatoes. And then my Crispy Baked Chicken ended up being undercooked and had to go back in the oven -- which I only discovered after we'd all sat down and served ourselves. Later, I stupidly tried to cut Simon's rather shaggy hair with the cordless trimmer while he was sitting in the bathtub, and only succeeded in cutting the hair on top while being unable to reach the back or sides -- then I had to stop and bathe him because he was howling about having hair on the back of his neck. So now he has about a third of a haircut.
The kids are finally in bed, which gives me two whole hours of personal time. Except that I have a headache, and a sore throat, and my right arm is aching in the particular way that means I had better ease off on mousing or I'm going to end up back at the physiotherapist. Wah. Poor poor pitiful me.
There, I feel better now.